


Earl Grey

by Snow



Series: Chifir [2]
Category: Guilty Gear
Genre: Gen, Rape Aftermath, vaguely hurt/comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-28
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-21 16:04:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/902192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snow/pseuds/Snow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ky tries to cope the way he does best: by ignoring everything and trying to keep moving.</p><p>Sequel to <em>Chifir</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Earl Grey

It wasn't smart to stay there, half toppled on his side so he didn't have to rest on anything that hurt more than he could bear, but Ky hadn't been able to make himself move for the last thirty minutes, and the next half hour didn't look any better. Which was why when he heard footsteps he just tried to curl up a little tighter, feeling getting up to be an impossible task.

There was a low swearing in a voice Ky knew. He couldn't let himself believe it was actually the man it sounded like, but he propped himself up to stare at shoes that were walking toward him. "Sol?" He hated the sound of his own voice, hated how weak and raspy -- little more than a whisper, really -- it was, and on top of all that, how needy. How much he wanted it to be Sol.

The man Ky wanted to be Sol squatted down next to him and fixed red eyes on Ky's own. "Look'at me a sec," he said, so Ky did.

He didn't know what Sol saw there, but he flicked his eyes over the rest of Ky. "Y'can rest if y'want. I'll have a healer fix you." He reached out towards Ky's hair, and Ky wanted to tell him not to touch, wanted to tell him that it was sticky -- _he_ was sticky -- but Sol was moving too fast. His touch was abstracted, almost like a healer's or a nurse's, and Ky took his advice and closed his eyes.

He didn't think he lost consciousness, but he must have, because he was somewhere else the next time he opened his eyes, and there was someone dressed in medical clothing and her arms crossed, staring down Sol, or trying to.

"Before you wrap anything, he gets a shower." Sol's eyes flickered over to Ky, and Ky could see the way the medic opened her mouth to argue and then decided he wasn't likely to listen.

"Not alone," she said instead.

Sol nodded, and shifted his orientation so Ky didn't have to strain to look up at him. "Y'want t'get clean?" Sol asked.

Ky tried to figure that out, to know why the nurse had said not alone. "I--" he started, but he couldn't figure out what to say from there.

"If we set up a chair and let the water run over you from there," Sol said. "Then does he have to be accompanied?"

Ky shook his head, looked directly at Sol. He needed to be clean, and to be properly clean, not some sort of half-done approximation. "With you is fine." His voice was still raspy, and Ky wondered how long it would be until he sounded normal again.

Sol kept his clothes on and didn't help Ky get his robe off until they were situated inside the shower. Ky had intended to do this quickly, to try to get some forward momentum again, but the spray of the water was soothing, and instead he simply stood there for much of it and let Sol clean him, let him shampoo his hair and wash his face, let the contact of another person make him start to feel clean again.

Ky had thought he'd stay until the water ran cold, but at the first droplets of cooling Sol reached up to where the pipe went into the wall, and then the water was warm again.

Sol was silent throughout it, but that was to be expected, because it was Sol, and him insisting on talking much would have been a sign of something truly wrong, something wrong beyond fixing. His silence was a comfort.

After a while the water shut off, and Ky helped Sol dry him, wincing at the feeling of the towel but doing it anyway. Sol wrapped Ky up in the robe -- it felt too open, too easy to take off, but there was little Ky could do beside try desperately to swallow the panic and the fear -- and stepped away for a moment. Ky could see the steam rising off of Sol's clothing, but he dropped his eyes after a moment, tired beyond the ability to hold his head up. He could feel himself trembling, and he thought Sol wouldn't miss it when he went back to supporting Ky, helped him back the room that was clearly in no hospital, and yet served that process at the moment. Sol didn't say anything, still, until Ky was resettled in the bed, and the medic had started to fuss over his wounds.

"I'll get you some tea."

Sol returned while the medic -- Ky should probably get her name -- was cleaning his shoulder, applying some kind of ointment. Ky waited until she'd moved on to his foot to take the tea. It was only a little warmer than room temperature, and Ky wasn't sure how he felt about that, but he sipped at it anyway, letting the taste of bergamot wash over him.

* * *

Ky had more visitors than he would like, even if it was only Sol and Alexa, the medic. She wasn't so bad, even if her visits were more often than he would like, and even if she didn't seem happy with him doing much beyond paperwork (and even with that she didn't like the volume of what he tried to accomplish). 

Sol was another story entirely.

Ky hadn't expected him today, since he'd visited yesterday and Ky thought he'd made it clear enough, _finally_ , that he didn't need Sol doing any kind of fussing over him, didn't need him doing anything other than what he had done. It made him sick to his stomach, to think he'd never have the chance to earn Sol's respect now.

When Ky opened his door to get the morning paper, he found Sol instead. His gaze flickered over at Ky, then down at the paper in his hand. "Figures you're up at this hour," he muttered. Light spilled onto the street from Ky's apartment door, still dark enough outside that that mattered.

"What are you doing here, Sol?" Ky asked. He wasn't interested in talking about how he was up, or how long he had been. Better to be exhausted all the time than have to face the nightmares.

"Was goin't'take this," Sol said.

"Any particular reason," Ky asked, dry, "or do you just need more firewood?" He wasn't sure where Sol was staying these days, but it had to be somewhere close, somewhere Sol wasn't inconvenienced by his visits (even if Ky was).

Sol lifted an eyebrow but didn't say anything. Ky shifted his weight against his crutch.

"I want to know why you're stealing my paper," Ky said.

Sol shook his head, and Ky gave in to the urge to try to start something as much for the sake of getting a reaction other than _pity_ or _shame_ as because he wanted to know what Sol was trying to hide. Ky lunged at him, grabbing for Sol's shoulder to keep him up and then the paper.

Sol responded by half-grappling with Ky, half-shifting to try to keep him from falling. Ky didn't know that he'd ever felt so patronized, but then the paper fell from Sol's hands and there was a familiar pair of blue eyes staring up at him, boring into him.

It took him a couple of minutes to be done throwing up, and by that point the paper was ruined. Ky didn't even notice Sol's hand on his upper arm, helping him keep up, but he noticed when Sol guided him to the sofa, settled them both.

Ky sat stiffly, making sure he wasn't sitting too close to Sol. It wasn't a problem; Sol was careful to give him his space.

"They're dead," Sol said, and Ky kept his eyes on the ground, no matter how much he wanted to turn and look at him.

"What do you mean?"

Sol stood. "I'll clean up."

"Don't walk away from me!" Ky snapped, but Sol did anyway, heading towards the kitchen and cabinet. Ky eyed his crutch, lying by the front door, and stumbled to his feet anyway. He tried to keep most of his weight on his good foot, only using his cast for balance, but plans rarely survived an encounter with the enemy. It was a challenge not to cry out in pain, but at least it was something Ky could focus on, something he could defeat. "What did you do?" he demanded, because he wanted to hear Sol say it.

Sol didn't even turn towards Ky.

"How many?" Ky asked.

"Six." Sol's voice sounded flat, or maybe that was just Ky projecting.

"And you're sure--?"

"Yes."

Ky was still trying to figure out how he felt about that, and how he should feel about it, when Sol spoke again.

"I put down monsters," he said.

"I don't think--" Ky started, something about the matter-of-factness grating on him, and the fact that it seemed like he should object, ought to say something.

"Yeah," Sol said, "Y'do."

* * *

Sol didn't stop visiting even after Alexa did, after she declared Ky clear to return to his normal levels of exertion. "I have work to do, Sol," Ky said, not getting up from the desk in his office. He could now, of course, but he did have paperwork and reports to finalize, and he didn't care to have them sit undone any longer. Ky still wasn't getting enough sleep, and it was affecting how quickly he could get through things.

"Kid," Sol said, the beginning of something that was undoubtedly going to be patronizing, already was.

"What do I have to do," Ky snapped, the argument familiar, and comfortable because of it, even through his anger, "To get you to believe I've grown up? That I have a name, and that it can be _used_?"

There was a part of Ky's brain that expected Sol to just capitulate, expected him to acknowledge that this recent experience, the facts of it, surely made him an adult. (There was another part of Ky that didn't like that, but he was so used to ignoring that, to shoving those kinds of thoughts away, that he barely had to acknowledge it.)

"Kid," Sol said again, and when Ky looked at him he was smirking. Ky had known before -- back when Sol had been his subordinate -- that there could be something reassuring about the constancy of Sol's moods, but he focused so much more on the frustration of it. "Take a break."

Ky huffed. "I suppose you have an idea for what kind of break it should be."

"If y've eaten in th'last three hours."

Ky tried to assure himself that he didn't feel guilty, that he was keeping weird hours and that it wasn't really any of Sol's business when he had lunch. He ate when he was hungry.

Sol sighed. "Eat."

Ky frowned at the form he'd been working on, signed and dated the line. He heard Sol's feet in his living room, the sound of him sprawling across Ky's couch. "Your feet had better still be on the ground," he called out.

A grunted, "Eat," was all the response Ky was given.


End file.
